Better than a wench
by circas
Summary: With the arrival of King Robert and his court, all Theon wanted was to bed a few southern whores. ASOIAF kink meme prompt: Theon steals Jon's first kiss. Crack very much welcome. Theon/Jon Theon/Others


Theon Greyjoy was giddy with excitement at the announced arrival of the King. This meant along with the royal court came kitchen wenches and hand maids: new girls for Theon to fuck. He had heard that southern women were fiery things and were nothing like the cold and slack girls of the North.

Within the first few hours of the influx of southerner's, Theon had already picked up a pretty thing with cropped auburn hair and stunning blue eyes. He shrugged off the rest of his cloak and small clothes and rolled his eyes as the wench wouldn't _shut up_.

"Gods I never thought I'd get a chance to leave that wretched place. Even for a few weeks is better that not leaving at all." The wench stripped off her gown as she continued. "And the men here," her eyes traced over the sculpted muscle that covered Theon's torso and arms. "All so big and-"

"Will you just get on your knees and start sucking?" The wench lowered her eyes in embarrassment and crawled over to Theon, a hand rubbing up his thighs until it reached up and grasped a hold of Theon's half-hard member. He closed his eyes and exhaled softly as the red-headed wench closed her lips over the tip. He yanked at her hair and hissed, "Teeth." Once she got the hang of it, Theon relaxed his grip in her hair and shifted his hips erratically as the wench hollowed her cheeks and took him deep.

_The first of many_ Theon thought to himself, and the best part of it all was he didn't even have to pay her. As the wench leaves his room, sated and calling out that they should do this again, he nods and closes the door. Theon pieces his tunic back on and tugs his fur cloak over his shoulders. His eyes sweep across his bedchamber, finally landing on his quiver and bow. Loosing a few arrows after a good fuck always kept Theon well practiced and focused.

As he made his way down to the armory, he eyed down a few potential girls that could warm his bed for the night.

Theon noticed that the door to the armory was left slightly ajar and from the inside, he could make out the soft _whoosh_ of an arrow piercing the air and _thunk_ when it made contact. Not many northerner's favored this particular art of war; the sword was made in abundance here.

Carefully Theon pushed the door open until he saw a figure shrouded in black leathers with black curly hair atop his head.

The boy knocked another arrow and pulled until the feathers were close to his ear. Loosed and hit the lower right of the target. He grunted and knocked an arrow once more. Theon smirked and crossed his arms. Jon Snow always was a lousy shot; and he had the _audacity_ to laugh at Bran as his soared feet above a given target.

Theon could almost feel the tension seeping into Jon's shoulders as his bow arm leveled with the target. His stance was incredibly awkward and it only aided in throwing his aim horribly off. Not wanting to see another arrow go to waste, Theon made his presence known, calling out "Having a little trouble, Snow?"

"Gods," he gasped as he jumped and dropped the bow. Theon chuckled. Jon gathered up the discarded black and grey cloak on the ground next to the long bow and draped it around his shoulders. He grabbed his long bow and quiver and pushed past Theon to leave the armory. Theon scoffed. "You may be a bastard but you've still got the direwolf in your blood." Jon stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder. Theon smirked again. "A wolfs paw just isn't suited for archery." And with that, Theon expertly knocked an arrow back with ease and loosed; hitting the core of the target. "Now _that's_ how it's done Snow," when he turned back, Jon was gone.

After an hour of practice, Theon had gone to the dinner hall and joined in with the loud cacophony of men and women that sang and drank in honor of their guest: King Robert Baratheon. Theon was drunk off the summerwine and it only made the sex with a blonde beauty that night even sweeter. He howled in ecstasy as he took her from behind, hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips while he plowed into her with sloppy thrusts.

He didn't have the energy to get to the armory afterwards. Instead he bid the woman to leave with the flick of his hand and took one last pull of the wine jug before he found himself dozing off, promising he'd make up for the loss of time in the morning.

And when morning came his loins ached and his head pounded. But he couldn't let himself fall behind, he lugged himself from underneath his furs and grabbed his bow and quiver.

Theon walked with leisure. It was quiet and the rustle and bustle of the streets lay dormant until the sun would peak out from behind the clouds. Theon wasn't sure how he felt about the quiet; it gave him too much time to think. The silence – save for the occasional cawing of a crow or the sounds of stone hitting gravel, the silence seeped through Theon's skin and chilled him to the bone. The calling of merchants and haggling of customers, the cries of babes still attached to their mothers tit, the laughter and merriment that stemmed from Lord Eddard's bannermen was enough to grab Theon's attention from his own mind. Having a tavern girl in his bedchamber kept his thoughts at bay for a night.

When he finally got to the iron doors, Theon smiled to himself. It was vacant and the cold, dry air was absent. He pushed the door closed with his hip and took in a deep breath.

One arrow after another he loosed; splitting an arrow in the center as it pierced the heart of the target nearly every time. There was nothing more relaxing than this; he was the best archer in the North and the very thought made his chest swell with pride. Reaching behind him to grab another arrow from his quiver, he readied his bow and aimed down the target; seconds from loosing to a perfect shot, he stopped. Theon could hear the soft patter of footsteps far behind him. As soon as they came to a halt, Theon held his breath and loosed the arrow, splitting another as he hit the target. "Come back for a lesson have you Snow?" He turned to a very flustered Jon Snow and raised his hands in defense. "Don't give me that look." He placed his bow on a nearby table and stepped closer to Jon. "You should be honored that I am even _willing_ to help you." Jon narrowed his eyes and took a few steps back. "I'm in no mood for your games Greyjoy," his grip on the longbow tightened.

"Who says it's a game, I'm actually trying to offer you a helping hand. Make you a little less useless to the Stark's." Theon was almost sure that that jab would've sent the boy running off, but he kept his ground. He was a little disappointed. Jon went to the target and pried each arrow – whole or split out until it was clear. He took a few arrows from the weaponry table and stuffed them into his quiver, then he made his way to stand beside Theon, hands positioning themselves on his bow as he said "Then teach me."

He was a little shocked. Theon had never taught someone had to loose an arrow; it was all very natural to him and the thought of actually having to transfer his talent into words for Jon to understand, it made him sigh heavily.

If Theon was to be stuck with this brat for the morning, he might as well enjoy himself. He stood behind Jon and corrected the position of his hands on the bow and placed a few fingers at the small of his back to straighten his posture. Theon bent over and whispered into Jon's ear. "Before you can loose an arrow, you must feel the balance between yourself, and the bow. If it's not there, you will miss _every_ time." His breath danced across Jon's ear. Theon's eyes went to Jon's throat as his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he nodded. When Theon noticed that Jon's back wasn't straight and his shoulders were starting to sag under the pressure of having to keep the bow up, his fingers skimmed up his spine, making him shudder. Jon jumped out of his grasp and said "The hell are you doing Greyjoy?"

"Straightening your posture." He said coolly. Jon pursed his lips. Again, Theon was almost sure that Jon would be too embarrassed to continue and be on his way. Yet his back turned to Theon and he waited for instruction. Then he began to wonder, how far would the Stark bastard let him go?

Far enough to cross a few lines it seemed. During the training session, Theon had his hands all over Jon in the name of 'keeping his posture in check.' A few times Jon would shudder and inch away from Theon's invading touch, but eventually, he relaxed to it, almost as if it weren't there at all.

The bow string was stretched back as an arrow was being set into place. Theon hated to admit but Jon's posture was perfect, his hands weren't needed on him any longer, but Theon kept them on Jon's hips anyway. He pressed in close once more, whispering "Feel the balance, and when you are ready, loose the arro-"

_Thunk_

In the dead center of the target. Jon relaxed himself and turned back to Theon, that rare small smile on his lips.

Suddenly Theon wanted to feel them against his own.

The longbow clattered to the ground as Theon shoved Jon into the stone wall and kissed him frivolously. Out of shock, Jon's lips opened slightly and Theon invaded his mouth with his tongue; sliding it across his teeth and prodding Jon's tongue with his own.

He wasn't sure why he did that, Theon had never been with a man before in his life. But everything was so _different_ yet the same when it came to kissing Jon and kissing a woman. Except, Jon wasn't kissing him back.

Theon pulled away and cleared his throat, avoiding Jon's eyes. "Uhm..." Theon looked back up at Jon and had to repress the urge to run his tongue over those kiss-swollen lips. The awkward silence hung in the air between them before Jon gathered his bearings and left Theon inside the armory.


End file.
